


And The Darkness Falls...

by Jenwryn



Category: Death Note
Genre: M/M, Podfic Available, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-21
Updated: 2008-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-02 13:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenwryn/pseuds/Jenwryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only in the moonlight does L let himself drown in his addiction...</p>
            </blockquote>





	And The Darkness Falls...

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written about a week ago, when I was soaking my brain in the music of Yoshikazu Iwamoto and the poetry of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Clearly neither of them ever aimed to be the inspiration behind rather odd Death Note fanfiction. Equally clear is the fact that my mind is a weird place.
> 
> There is a podfic version [here](http://audiofic.jinjurly.com/and-darkness-falls), at Jinjurly's Archive.

> _The day is done, and the darkness  
> Falls from the wings of Night_...  
> ~ Longfellow.

L, who thinks of himself by the letter even in the privacy of his own mind, because even the mind is not truly private, especially when it’s connected to eyes and hands and a speaking tongue, sits in bed with the sheets pulled up around him and the moonlight pooled at his feet. His toes are bare, and protruding from the blankets, and only millimetres away from the boy, the young man, lying in the bed beside him. The moon is full and round and pregnant, a moon of poets and dreamers, of which L considers himself to be neither, though perhaps he is both, a moon extending high across the city and competing with the neon glow of store-fronts and street-lights. Its own glow is a more tender bluish-silver and it pours in at the window, blind up to let it in beckoningly, and spills across the muscles of Light-kun’s bare back, casting shadows across the rise of shoulder-blades and the dip towards hips, and painting out the soft bruises left by lips and thumbs, and making L tremble. The boy is like a drug, though it is only at moments like this, with the light of the darkness bathing over them and thoughts of Kira keeping him far from sleep, that L truly lets himself drown in his addiction, feasting his eyes, moving his feet slightly so that they touch against the boy’s side and pierce warmth up through his limbs and straight to his core in a way completely different to the emotion he feels when the boy spreads his arms for him at twilight. Kira keeps L awake. Not the Kira case, for that is a different matter, more fit for daylight hours, but Kira himself, Kira who is, L is so convinced of it, asleep in this bed here beside him, the Kira who may not be Kira anymore (could the boy sleep with such innocence if he knew? could he caress so gently if he were? really? could the evil run so deep?) but the Kira, nevertheless, whom L wants to spread his body over, and kiss, and bite into, so badly that every inch of his skin tingles and stings just from the illicit contact with that flesh, that small touch from his toes, unbidden, because the boy is asleep.

Only here, in the glow of the moonlight, does L let himself play so dangerously with the strands of darkness that seek to pull him in, make him long to possess them, understand them, accept them, if it means the complete possession of this boy.

L loves Light-kun.

But in the moonlight, he hungers for Kira-san.


End file.
